Chapter 9: The Message She Didn’t Want to Send
It started with a phone call she didn’t want to answer.
Celeste sat by the window, legs curled under her, staring at her cracked phone screen as it buzzed again. The number was familiar — not saved, but burned into her brain.
Her polytechnic’s admin office.
She finally answered.
“Hi Celeste, sorry to bother you. This is just a reminder—your deferred tuition balance is due this week. We tried charging your account but it didn’t go through. We’ll need at least a partial payment before the system locks you out.”
She froze. “How much?”
“$820. If you can pay by Friday, we can keep your modules active. Otherwise... I’m really sorry.”
The call ended with a polite “Take care,” but she barely heard it.
Her fingers gripped the edges of her blanket as the numbers replayed in her mind. She had pushed off the bill twice already, telling herself she’d figure it out. But she hadn’t. She couldn’t. And now she was about to lose her classes—the one thing she had that felt like a future.
Her bank app showed $11.23. She laughed once, dry and bitter. Of course it did.
Cosplay was supposed to be her escape. Her one space to feel in control, beautiful, powerful. Now, even that felt like a luxury.
She scrolled to her Telegram messages. Stopped at his name.
- Zach.
Their last message was still there. He hadn’t said a word since she walked out that day. Neither had she. She wasn’t sure he expected to hear from her again.
Her thumb hovered over the screen.
Then tapped.
Celeste:
Is your offer still open?
The reply came within seconds.
Zach:
Depends. What are you ready for?
She stared at those words, already knowing what they meant. He wasn’t talking about cosplay shoots anymore. The tone had shifted — polite, but colder now. In control.
Celeste:
I need $1000. Just this once.
Zach:
I’ll give it to you.
But this time, I want to finish on your face.
No rushing. You do it properly.
Her stomach twisted.
It wasn’t just the words. It was how fast he responded. Like he’d already thought about it. Like he’d been waiting for her to break.
She set the phone down and got up, pacing the room. Her mind flipped between logic and shame.
It’s just your face. He’s not touching anything else. You’re not going to die from it.
But another part of her was louder: You’re doing this for school. Not for him. Not for fun. For your future.
She picked up the phone again. Her reflection hovered on the black screen, lips pressed thin, eyes unreadable.
Celeste:
Okay.
His response was fast, casual.
Zach:
Tomorrow. 2pm. Same place.
She didn’t reply.
She just stared at the final message and turned off her screen.
That night, she packed quietly: face wash, her towel, toothbrush, a clean shirt for after. Nothing fancy. Nothing that would make it feel like she was trying to look good for him.
In the mirror, she tied her hair up and stared at herself. She looked calm. Too calm.
But inside?
She already felt cold.
To be continued ....